


That's Not Me, Until I Had To Be

by Wintercameandwent



Series: That's Not Me, Until I Had To Be [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Ending, Angst, Arya Stark & Sansa Stark Have a Good Relationship, Daenerys Targaryen Is Not a Mad Queen, Daenerys takes KL using sound military tactics, Death in Childbirth, F/M, If Dany can do no wrong then this is not the fic for you., Implied Jon Snow/Sansa Stark, Implied/Referenced Death in Childbirth, Jon and Dany are married (not happy), Jon and Sansa Are Not Related, Jon is the father, Major Character Death-Sansa Stark dies in childbirth, Not a happy ending for Daenerys or Jon, Out of Character, POV Arya Stark, READ THE TAGS CAREFULLY, Sansa Stark friendly story, Sansa still has the last word in a way, This story is really about Arya Stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2019-10-29
Packaged: 2021-01-04 05:02:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21192005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wintercameandwent/pseuds/Wintercameandwent
Summary: When one sees herself as a warrior and not a lady, what does she do when sudden motherhood is thrusted upon her? Like her father before her, can Arya keep the promises to she made to her sister on her deathbed.Note to Readers,Beware!Jon and Sansa HAD a relationship...as in past tense. The relationship relates to Arya's story so that is why it's tagged. The story isn't about their relationship. It's about Arya...and it's from her POV.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a completed fic...I just need to get it off of my computer...lol.
> 
> I always wondered what would Arya do if she was put in a position to parent a child/children, considering her life style. How would her life change. 
> 
> A secondary plot included, what if Sansa played the long game. 
> 
> Feel free to comment, but keep your comments constructive. If this fic isn't for you, then be mature about it and move on...silently. No need for a digital footprint. If you find the fic is too your liking, then thanks in advance for reading it.
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing!

“Take them Arya. Please take them. Raise them. Teach them. Make them strong. Keep them safe...above everything else, keep them safe.” Sansa whispers into her sister’s ear. 

The chamber, a woman’s battlefield, a birthing room. She walks past the two women who tried to help her Sansa during the delivery. All Arya can see is the blood stain sheets surrounding her sister. Sweat matting her crimson red hair to her head. Life fading from her Tully blue eyes. Eyes pleading with her to agree with her final request. Arya looks to the babes in her arms. Both the tiniest things Arya has ever seen, one with a full head of red hair and the other raven black. 

“l will go back home. We will care for them, Jon and Bran. They’ll never be without family. Not like us, for a time.”

“No Jon. Not Jon.”

“He’s their father, Sansa. He will do his duty. He’ll be a good father. Just like father was.”

“You can’t Arya. Please don’t tell him. They will never be safe with him, as long as he’s with her. Don’t let me die knowing she’ll raise my children. She will either raise them in her likeness, or perhaps she will not accept them, and he can’t protect them.”

Looking back at her sister, she nods her head and whispers, “I promise, Sansa. I promise.”

The room is silent, except for the sounds of Sansa’s shallow breaths. Arya stares at her sister, but Sansa only has eyes for the children in her arms. Their faces etched in her final memory, a harsh opposite for Arya’s whose last memory of her living sister was to see her take her last breath.

*****

Arya climbs off her northern steed. She looks over at her companion seated on the bench of her wagon. A lovely young woman named Garnaa, who had delivered a stillborn child at the time Sansa birthed her own children. Garnaa wanted to leave the Hardhome settlement, where Sansa had sought refuge, and Arya remained after, to see...and I quote, “what this kneeler world is about..” Garnaa and Sansa became friends during their pregnancies. Garnaa took it on upon herself to make sure Sansa’s girls were fed. She claimed Sansa is watching over her child, and she’ll watch over hers. The women have been tied together ever since. Arya was only too happy to welcome her on this journey south of the Wall.

“Is that where we going?” Garnaa looks toward the largest bloody castle she’s ever seen. 

Arya laughs at the wide-eyed expression on her companion’s face. “Yes. It’s called the Last Hearth. When the Night King came he made his way through this keep. My brother tells me no one has been given this stead. It’s been abandoned. Common folk stay away. They think after everything that’s happened here; it should remain undisturbed. Making it the perfect place for us...at least for a little while.”

“Yah thinking the Kneeler King won’t find you here.”

“Jon won’t discover us here. He spends most of his time in the South. I need to figure out if it’s safe for me to bring the girls to the capital. My mind tells me, no, but Jon is as much my brother as Sansa was my sister...even if they found a way _not to feel this way about each other._ I need to see for myself, this new Westeros. It’s been a little over two years, perhaps times have changed enough that I can give him his daughters. Sansa may have been smart, but she’s not here to see how things could have changed. I won’t keep the girls from their father just because he didn’t choose their mother. _Bloody Hell! _The man couldn’t choose...she never told him.”

“Who are we expectin to see here?”

From a distance Arya can spot the tall formidable figure that makes Brienne of Tarth. “We’re going to meet more family.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The children get older...and things change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing!

Arya can tell that Brienne is both awed and terrified of holding such young charges. Brienne sits down hard on a chair near the fire. She can’t seem to stop staring at the two toddlers in her arms. 

“They are so small, yet strong.” Wonder evident in her voice. 

“They’re big bushels now. They were wee smaller than this. They are over two years gone now.” Garnaa shares with Brienne. 

It pains Arya to think of her sister dead. She thinks of the box in her satchel, that contains her sister’s remains. She plans to give the box to Brienne to take back to Winterfell. Sansa should finally be laid to rest at home, undisturbed. 

The girls are starting to become more active as they grow. They remind Arya of her sister, in the shapes of their eyes, the bow of their lips, slopes of their noses. The look like Sansa...so much like Sansa. They also have some of her mannerisms. The lower-lid glazed stare...when they are unimpressed. Usually for them it’s when she and Garnaa try to introduce new vegetables to their diet. Arya admits she tries not to laugh at them when they behave just so. They also have quite a bit of Jon. Both very introspective...dare she say brooding. They are very much of the same mind, but Robyn is the sister that speaks for them both. They take slights to heart...much like their father. They both have his curly hair...though of different color, and his smile. The one he always tries to keep from shining through. 

“I can’t get over how much they look like her. Especially...” Brienne looks to Arya and Garnaa to learn her name. 

“Robyn. Her name is Robyn. She wanted to name her after Rob. Her sister is Alysanne.” It took Arya a long time to call the girls by their names. She was grateful of the Free-folk tradition to name babes after their second name day. 

“Are you sure taking them South is the right thing to do? Sansa was not wrong about Daenerys. It has been almost two and a half years, and the realm is still at war with itself.” Brienne confides.

“How is that possible? There weren’t many people left to fight? With her armies and dragon, who else is there to fight?” Arya is curious. 

“The lords bent the knee...those still alive to do so, but you know how it goes. The politics that are played. All this talk of doing things differently, but it all seems to be the same. Sansa knew better than most that once you sit the Iron Throne, all you spend is your entire life doing is everything you can to stay at the top.” Brienne shares sadly.

“So basically, it’s the same game...” Arya surmises. 

“With different players. This player though has no trouble using her dragon to bring people to heel.” Brienne carefully places the girls down. They run towards Arya, speaking to her in their funny made-up language.

“What do people expect when you are on the bottom of the food-chain...look at animals. The stronger will always prevail. Daenerys and her dragons are not different. They are on the top, there is no question about that.” 

“I guess you’re right. It’s with a cautious disposition I give the girls, the first part of your brother’s gift for their second name day...though a bit overdue.” Brienne walks over to a chest and presents it to Arya. 

Garnaa stands behind Arya, as the Stark woman carefully opens the chest. Arya can feel her lungs seize. Air unable to get in or out. 

“Bloody Hell! Those are the biggest eggs I have ever seen.” Garnaa exclaimed. “What are we to do with those?”

Arya looks up to hear an insistent scratching at the door. She looks over to see Alysanne standing on her sister’s back, using her as a lift, allowing her to reach the door. Gods they are quick. Arya knows better than to take her eyes off of them for a moment. Just as she runs up to snatch little Alysanne off of her sister, the door latch releases, and the door is pushed open by two young direwolves. 

Brienne shares a doubtful look with Arya. “Aaaaand here is the second part of Bran’s present.”

“Bran gave me these words to give to you...the girls will know what to do with the eggs and the direwolves, but you must keep the children until they are ready to stand on their own. It is a matter of their survival, and the survival of the realm. Like their mother before, Sansa’s daughters are the key.”

*****

Arya observed her nieces with a watchful eye. Alysanne’s wooden sword met her sister’s...hit for hit. Both girls have learned how to water dance and swordsmanship. They’ve learned how to fight...with hands and swords. A childhood Arya had to cultivate in secret when she was a child, but could provide for her nieces...at her sister’s behest. They tended to be a little bit blood-thirsty at times...Arya likes to think that is her contribution to her nieces’ personalities. 

“I can’t imagine your sister ever picking up a sword with a working understanding of how to use it. Her weapon of choice were words. I’ve never met anyone since who could leave a person bleeding out better than she could...cut to the quick, with no blood on her hands.” 

Arya knew he was watching her...he’s not very silent about it. Gendry always had a tendency to think too loudly. The two white and gray direwolves with eyes red as garnet, barely spared a look toward the intruder, his scent signals as friend.

“Quite right, Lord Baratheon. Where you ever at the end of my sister’s spoken-sword?”

Gendry releases a mighty laugh, he wraps his arms around her waist, a deep chuckle vibrates near her neck.

“No, not me. But I have seen a few at the end of her sword...the Queen and Jon were her more frequent sparing partners. Gods, these beasts have grown. I thought Robyn was jesting when she said she needn’t a horse because she could just ride Winter.”

Arya laughs, thinking of how large her own direwolf, Nymeria, had grown. “Speaking of the Queen and Jon, what news do you bring from the South?” She inquires. 

“Tensions are high in the Westerlands and Dorne. Dorne has threaten to declared themselves independent, since Arianne reclaimed her house from Oberyn’s Sands’. Daenerys is not pleased, and all are aware of it. She’s summoned our banners. The Stormlands are small. We have few men to fight. Most areas are in the same condition.” Gendry looks disheartened. 

“What does Jon say?” she probes.

“He stands with her, but not. He is trying to bring Dorne back into the fold without further bloodshed. She’s allowed it...for now. He’s been able to keep the Westerlands at bay, but since Tyrion’s death...it’s becomes harder. Jon was in the Stormlands, a moon ago, he brought Dornish dignitaries to parley, to Storm’s End.”

Arya’s quirked an eyebrow. “Your idea...for Storm’s End?”

“Arya...your brother and I have become friends over this past decade. It shames me that I lie to him about his children. There will be a time when all is revealed, and I hope that when the time comes, he’ll remember me fondly enough to remain my friend. Us bastards never really had many. So, I help him, when I can.”

Arya turns in his arms. She wraps her arms around his neck, and gentle pulls him close to her. She lays a soft kiss on his lips. Peering up at him, he smiles down at her. “You’ll never be without me. You’re my family, and I am yours.”

A loud grunt had the couple pull away and turn towards the noise. “Aunt Arya!!! Uncle Gendry!!! Did you see me? I did it! I did it. Finally, Sister, I have unsworded you.” Robyn dances around her sister with much glee. 

Alysanne very much unimpressed, strikes out with her legs to knock her twin onto the ground. She jumps up and takes a step back. Hands up, ready for her sister to counterstrike. A smirk lining her lips, just to add an extra incentive for her sister to attack. 

Arya sensing another fight brewing in the air, stops it before it begins. “Well done to you both. Robyn, you are getting quicker with your sword hand...deciding to train, both hands, plays to your best fighting assets. Alys, you find ways to get yourself to safety and to a higher ground...you think quick on your feet. Both are skills I want you to teach each other. If you can teach it, then I’ll know you’ve mastered all I have taught you.”

Both girls stand a little bit taller, as they receive praise from their aunt. Alysanne turns to put her arm around her sister. “I daresay Robyn, your training shall begin at dawn. Come to me North.” Her direwolf trots behind her, as her sister does the same for Robyn. “Very funny, Alys. I’ll wager you couldn’t get yourself out of bed until midday. I am hungry though. Let’s go see is Garnaa has made the rabbit stew she’s been promising.” The girls walk back to their home, arms linked, anger forgotten. 

The years have been kind to them, Arya thinks. The Hearth had become a trading post for Free-Folk and traders from the South...as far East as Essos. Seems the meat of snow bear is a fine delicacy in Bravos. No one looks to closely at the two small women with the two young girls. The Free-Folk here, they still love Jon, but they respected Sansa...and her wish not to have Jon present in her life. And since he never “stole” Sansa, then they just assumed they parted ways. Such arrangements are common in their community. But should Jon ever deign himself to return this far north...should he asks about the Starks, then the truth would be revealed. She is sure of it

Arya takes Gendry’s hand, and they being to follow the girl’s path home. It’s been seven and a half years since they arrived to Last Hearth, and Jon has not ventured North once.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The twins shift from adolescents into young adulthood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thank you for the support coming out of the gate. I appreciate all the kudos, bookmarks, and subscriptions. I never know if a story will be perceived well, but so far this one has been...very much so. 
> 
> Please feel free to comment, but keep the comments constructive. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Arya still isn’t sure what the twins were doing out in the woods that night, but the results were not what she could have foreseen. Last Hearth was no longer an option. Bran seemed to know this, and immediately sent Brienne and Podrick to help them leave. Arya, ever grateful to Tormund and his discretion, showed him the cause of their sudden need to depart. His kissed-by-fire hair may have earned more white strands that day. He slowly turns his head to look at her, eyes full of astonishment, and asks “So I’m called Giantsbane because of my giant, but last I heard, the Mother of Dragons was already taken.”

Arya couldn’t contain herself, and just rolled her eyes at Tormund, absolutely put out by the mess of it all. The man let out a bawdy laugh. “What is Snow going to do with three dragon queens, ladies...princess...all the titles you kneelers have. It just brings my mind much pain. 

It seems the girls decided to try their survival skills, without informing their aunt or Garnaa. And while Arya and a visiting Gendry made a private camp of their own, they could see a blood red comet shooting through the sky. Immediately she remembered Jon telling her about how Daenerys’ dragons came to be...on a night with such a sight. Immediately Arya thought of the girls. She sensed something was not right, and pushed Gendry to make it back to her home. When they arrived, the twins and their direwolves were not there, and neither were their dragon eggs. The three adults went out into the woods to find the wayward children. At twelve, the girls weren’t children. They both had their moon-bloods, and were considered women, but to her...they were still too young to be alone. Arya knows she has prepared them to best of her skills, but there are some truths she couldn’t bare them to know. 

Frantic in her search, she comes to a clearing with a large fire. She sees the girls engulfed in flames. Her scream wretches through the night sky, bringing both Gendry and Garnaa to her. Arya runs to the blaze trying to get to the girls, but Garnaa pulls her back. Arya uses her skills to fight Garnaa, to make her release her. All she can think about is saving the girls. They are all that is left of her sister. She promised to keep them safe. All she can see is her failure. Gendry tries to get to the twins as well, but the fire has built into an inferno, making it impossible to withstand. The girls seem so quiet and calm in their slumber. Arya thinks best to die in sleep, then in awareness. With a heavy heart, she slowly perishes along with her nieces as the fire begins to die, and remains smolder. 

Just when Arya’s heart couldn’t take the loss anymore, she saw movement from the bodies before her. Robyn pushed herself up from the ashes of her fur bedding. She looks at herself, and realizes she’s covered in soot, clothes burned. She looks up to see her family staring at her. Robyn immediately covers her nakedness and in doing so disturbs her sister. Alysanne takes in her own appearance and turns to her sister to preserve what little modesty they had. So, inherently like Sansa, they could be. Too shocked to speak or move it takes a moment for the adults to set themselves into motion, Gendry closest...delivering his cloak to the girls. As Robyn reached out for it, two small heads peaked out from under her right arm, and one looks through the end of Alysanne’s hair. There before them were three dragons. _Three bloody dragons!_

Arya gathered everyone back to the house. The girls kept to their home for four days. On the fifth day, Tormund visited. On the sixth day, Brienne arrived with a coach. On the seventh day, they were gone.

***

When the girls finally met their Uncle Brandon, it seemed to Arya that the twins knew him well. Not just the understanding that came with the stories she told and the letters he wrote, but rather the was a familiarity that one expects from frequent direct contact. Arya’s intuition was validated when she learned that both Bran and the twins could see each other in their dreams, and in those dreams he has taken the girls on journeys...both into their family past, especially to their parents and their unhappy history.

To say Arya was vexed at the news was an understatement. Not only had he exposed them to painful truths, he told the girls to keep it from her. They had words. Passionate from her, emotionless from him, but she couldn’t ignore the letter her sister sent to him, weeks before her death, asking Bran to tell the girls of their family history, their parents past, and to teach them how to play the game so they can protect themselves from it. 

In the five years Arya, Garnaa, and the twins have resided in Greywater Watch, she has learned that there is only one person who can make the emotionless Brandon Stark emote...and that person is Lady Meera Reed. After the hatching of the dragons, Bran reached out to Howland and Meera Reed, asking for their help in keeping the descendants of Eddard and Lyanna Stark safe. 

Upon meeting the twins, Howland Reed stared at them in astonishment. He called Alysanne, Lyanna. Arya was very confused by this, because by all accounts Arya was always told that she resembled her Aunt Lyanna. Never had anyone claimed Sansa took after her...she had the Tully looks. Like their mother. But the look on Lord Reed’s face...made one think he saw a ghost. 

Arya asked him to explain himself. He said he could see some of Catelyn Tully in the girls, that must have come though from Sansa, but Alysanne with her long dark curly hair bound in a long braid, Stark grey eyes, graceful...yet commanding presence, reminded him of Lyanna Stark. He looked over at Robyn, and told her that she too had the look and feel of her grandmother, but the coloring was all wrong. 

“My nieces, colors aside, take their physical traits from my sister...there is some of their...father...as well.”

“And you...the fierce Northern warrior. Your reputation proceeds you.” He nods to her respectfully. “I’ve never met your sister, but if what you say is true, then Sansa Stark would have looked much like your Aunt...Tully colors aside.” He concluded.

Arya thought to the times she spied her father telling mother, that he didn’t understand Sansa sometimes. Perhaps his misunderstanding had more to do with his feelings about his whimsical sister, and less to do about his fanciful daughter. It made more sense for a girl who believed in princes, love, and songs to fall for the words of a Crowned Prince, with a family of his own. Oh Sister...how alike you were too.

During their time in Greywater the girls grew both in body and in character, as did their dragons. The two twelve-year old’s transformed into lovely young women of nineteen...six moons away from their next name day.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya receives a letter from Bran while visiting Gendry in Storm's End. Arya finds herself back in Kings Landing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for the support you've sent this story. Only 1 more chapter to go.
> 
> Remember to keep comments constructive!
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing :)

It has been two and a half years since Greywater Watch, and news from the South just seemed to be getting worse. The Dragon Queen has gone to war with Dorne, against Jon’s recommendation. The Eyrie and the Riverlands have supported the Dornishmen’s right to govern themselves. Rumor also has the Eyrie and the Riverlands are working together to change their boundaries, and their political status. They too seek their own independence. Seems the people in these provinces refuse to send any more men to fight in wars that keep Daenerys in power. Three years ago, she quelled unrest in the Westerlands, when she flew her dragon there in an effort to stop the uprising. Gendry told her the result was the loss of their remaining ruling houses. She installed some of her Unsullied, but unrest by the common folk have led to the death of many of her men.

Arya has traveled to Storm’s End. With the girls, no longer girls, but strong fierce women, she is able to visit with Gendry. She sits on the beach, sitting close enough that the waves touch her toes. Gendry sits beside her, passing a letter to her. “A raven arrived today...this was for you.”

Arya opens the missive. It’s from Bran. She scans the contents quickly, but doesn’t believe what she’s reading. 

“What does he say?” Gendry inquires. Concern fixed on his face. 

“He said Jon has broken political-faith with Daenerys’. It seems the problems with Dorne, Westerlands, Riverlands, and Eyrie are only getting worse. He is frustrated with her lack of compromise to let the people govern themselves...as it seems to be what they desire most. Daenerys will not bend. She has sent out ravens informing all the Lords of the realm that they are to come to Kings Landing, with all of their armies, and re-pledge their fealty to her.”

“I’ve yet to receive a raven?” He looks puzzled.

“Well one is on the way, Dearest. Bran is never wrong about such things.” Arya smiles sadly.

“He also said that it is time...for the girls. Bran will send them with the Northern contingent...well as far as the Riverlands to help. But then he will send the twins to Kings Landing, as _THE_ northern army. The people of the Vale and of the Riverlands are being afforded sanctuary in the North. He will encourage the other areas, should they want to repledge, to delay their arrive to the capital by a fortnight. If they want to refuse Daenerys summons, to decline her by not attending...for he will send _ ‘the northern army’_ to assist them in their fight should they require it. Bran had been building settlements all along the North. He has prepared for this...as Sansa told him to.” She sighs. 

“Sansa told him.” He seems taken aback by that information. “How would she know to prepare that way.”

“It took me a while to see it, but Sansa was one of the smartest people I knew. The girls remind me of her in that way...especially Alysanne...calculated while under pressure.” She surmised. 

“I have to say the fact that no one South of the Neck has any idea of the existence of the girl’s dragons is extraordinary.” Gendry mused. 

“Bran has taken measures to ensure that the dragons bonded to the girls, and the girls are of the North. These dragons, they are not like Drogon...they like the cold...and they’ve never left them. I guess if anyone saw them, they would think it Drogon.” She considered. 

“If things were different. If Sansa had been made Queen in the North, the Riverlands and the Eyrie wanted to be part of her kingdom. Lord Royce told me that it was a shame she hadn’t been. They had spoken at great length of being able to rule themselves, as long as they agreed on selected rules each area was required to abide by...and agreements for bringing an area to heel...should they stray from the set agreement. It was something they knew to work, because that was the agreement they had with her as the Lady of Winterfell.” Arya is unaware that tears are the source of the wet on her face, and that the spray of surf is not to blame. 

“We were never close. In all honesty, I almost killed her because I thought her capable of usurping Jon. As much as I loved my brother...I’ve always adored him...maybe blindly. Jon knew me, understood me...when no one else really could. In the end, I have lived my life to keep my promise to her. She gave me her children, and trusted me to keep them safe...and I have...but I don’t know if I can agree with Bran’s plan. He wasn’t there.” She shakes her head as to ward off a memory. “He wasn’t there to watch her slip out of this world and into nothingness.” Her voice tapering off into a whisper. “I cannot lose what is left of Sansa. I cannot.” It’s in Gendry’s arms, where the land met the sea, that Arya Stark finally began to mourn the death of her sister.

*****

Arya hugs her brother close to her. Desperately holding him close. Knowing that in just a few moments he may never want to see her again. It has been over 22 years since they have seen each other, but to see them together, she still looks like a little girl jumping in to her big brother’s arms.

From the corner of her eyes, she can see Daenerys Targaryen standing off to the side, offering Jon and Arya some privacy. It seems that while husband and wife may not agree on her strategy to rule, they seem to not let it affect their marriage to much. Sansa was right...Jon loved his Dragon Queen, and he willfully chose to be with her...even if he doesn’t always agree with her. Arya can understand it’s hard to control what the heart wants. But Jon’s choice for a partner in life is something she decided she doesn’t want to understand, for it is what it is, and distance make the knowledge tolerable. He has never asked her for her approval, so her opinion should mean very little. A wise perspective as her relationship with Gendry should be afforded the same treatment, should Jon struggle with accepting her choices. 

Jon gestures for Daenerys to come forward, the private moment over. “My Queen, welcome my Sister.” 

Arya well-placed blank stare, firmly in place. She nods in Daenerys’ direction. “Queen Daenerys, it has been some time.”

Daenerys’ replies with a forced smile. Very similar to the one she graced Sansa with upon her introduction at Winterfell...two decades past. “Yes, it has, Lady Ayra. Quite a long time. Your brother has missed you terribly.”

Arya knows she shouldn’t, but she wants to test the mettle of this unified front before her. “Oh, I can’t see how Jon would have time to miss me. Not with all the traveling I’ve heard he’s undertaken, in the name of settling your rule in Westeros.” Arya smile’s...sharp as the dagger sheath on her hip. 

“There have been some challenges. All change bring trials. You reflect and you grow from them.” Daenerys coolly replies. 

“I agree reflection brings growth. Mayhap you would consent to share with me the growth you discovered from these reflections. As I have been gone a long time, I feel like I have missed so much.” Arya rejoinders. 

“All in good time, Sister.” Jon sighs tiredly as he looks over at Daenerys. “We have much to discuss. There is no need to speak it all in this moment. Let us get you settled. Daenerys thought to give us some time to dine privately. We can speak some more then.” Jon redirects. 

“Very well, Brother. It has been the longest of journey. I look forward to one day sharing it with you.” Jon smiles at her...a smile so similar to his daughters’ it takes Arya’s breath away. Jon noticed her reaction and asks if she was okay. Looking to shift his attention, she dismisses his concern and blames exhaustion. He quickly takes her to the guest chambers where she will reside.

Jon arrives for a late supper. They eat, and talk...mainly about nothing. Arya realizes that Jon has asked about Bran, but he has not asked about Sansa...and it angers her. So, she decides to bring her up. “Well we are all caught up with Bran, and I’ve shared with you my wanderings in the North, but you’ve yet to ask me about Sansa. Why is that? Have you seen or spoken to her recently that you don’t need to ask about her?”

Jon drops his eyes from hers. His once raven locks now combined with strands of white. She notices her brother looks older. “I haven’t asked about Sansa because the last time I did, I was told that Sansa was no longer my concern...as I had made certain choices. I took that to mean that Bran, and by extension you, would keep her confidences. I thought not to put you in a place of conflict, so I did not ask. I do think about her. I think about her often. She and I made so many mistakes with each other. I’d like to think we could make amends, but I think too much time may have passed...at least for her.”

“Do you love Daenerys, Jon? Are you happy with your choices?” 

Surprised by the change in conversation, Jon readjusts himself in his chair, sitting up straighter than he had before. “Aye. I do...in my way. Perhaps not as I once had. I may not be in love with my wife, like in my youth, but I love her as my family. Maybe my answer might be different if many of our years together had not been so hard. We have not grown in the same direction; it makes a strong marriage impossible to cultivate when the couple at the center work cross-purpose to each other. I know you might look at me and say ‘how’, I could have loved her at all. People are complicated. I loved her complications and all. Am I always happy with how she chooses to rule? No. I’m not, but I am free to tell her so. Do we fight? Say harsh words? What married couple does not? Am I happy with my choices? No, not really. If I knew what I know now, I would have made some changes in my life.” His voice resolute.

“What about Sansa? Did you love her?” Arya pries...hoping to understand Jon’s behavior towards Sansa in those days. 

Once again thrown by her questions, he searches for how to answer her...Arya can recognize his tells. It’s one she’s seen time and time again...on Alys’s face. She is the thoughtful one. “I did...I still do. As I said, people are complicated. She and I were complicated. Circumstances were delicate...”

“When you said you love her, did you mean as a brother or as a lover?” Arya knows she threw an incendiary statement in her brother’s direction. 

_“WHAT?”_ Jon never a good liar, just turned his head, eyes cast down....a gesture Robyn was known to do. 

“I know all about how you _‘loved’_ her, Jon. You and her had a relationship that wasn’t like ours. Don’t worry, I made peace with it long ago. It no longer bothers me. Just like it clearly didn’t bother you...” she continues under her breath, “...well at least one time it didn’t bother you.” She looks a Jon. Trying to measure his sincerity. Arya understands loving someone, even if you don’t agree with them. 

“What Sansa and I had...it was over before it ever really began. I loved her. I desired her, but to do so was wrong. I had a lot of guilt about it. I was conflicted. I thought Daenerys was conflict-free, but even then that wasn’t meant to be. When the truth of my parentage came out, I was between the battle against the Night King and taking over Kings Landing...then on top of it all I had two women that I loved, both so similar, yet so different.” Arya spies her brother’s hands rub his face harshly, as if to center himself. “When I returned to Winterfell from Dragonstone, Sansa’s anger towards me was a living thing, and when I went South to Kings Landing she made it clear that we were each other’s past. I tried to respect that, but I reached out to Bran, and he told me ‘Sansa wasn’t my concern anymore.’ I tried looking for her, though many of the uprisings after Dany took the throne kept me busy, I made a point to find her, but no one could tell me where she was. The replies were all the same, from the Vale to the Riverlands...’Lady Sansa is not here.’ So, after a while I stopped looking, because she had no desired to be found...at least not by me. After over two years of searching, I laid that ghost down, and married Daenerys. ” Arya watches as Jon tries to swallow what emotions seem to be forcing themselves through. 

Arya wonders if its best to tell him about Sansa now...or to let him find out later. As much anger as she has towards him, her love for him is greater, and the thought of him learning of Sansa’s death by discovering the birth of his daughters’ is a crueler fate than Arya is willing to inflict. 

Arya reaches for Jon’s hands. She looks into his eyes, and with a heavy heart...she tells him that Sansa died a little over 22 years ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what do you think will happen next?


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The moment is here...Jon sees his daughters for the first time, and we discover Sansa's endgame.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a bit of background: Arya tells Jon that Sansa is dead, but she refused to tell him how. All she said was that Sansa had died over 22 years ago and that her death was unexpected. She alluded to it being a bad winter. (Which it was and though he doesn't know this yet, the girls were born on one of the worst storms of the season...paralleling how Daenerys was born during one of the worst storms in history). 
> 
> Disclaimer...I own nothing.

“I had guessed at Lady Stark demise many years ago, but I never had the heart to share those thoughts with Jon. Though you brought dark words, I think he need it to hear them...to hear them from someone who loved her.”

Arya turned away from the view of the Blackwater Bay towards the voice who broke her revere. An older Daenerys stands before her. Draped in Targaryen colors, black and red, all in the Essos-influenced style, a golden circlet gracing her silver blond hair. Purple eyes observant, but Arya wonders what is it she truly sees. “I also imagine if you shared your belief with my brother, then he might accuse you of being spiteful.”

Daenerys laughs...but it’s not a good-natured sound. “Over twenty years later and Sansa Stark is still making my life unpleasant. If it wasn’t for the fact that you are serving as Bran’s representation for House Stark and the North, I would gladly encourage you to feel free to end your visit short and to continue on your journeys. I’m sorry to say Arya, you remind me of a time I’d rather forget. I hope you understand...it’s not personal.” 

Arya wanted to laugh. If Daenerys only knew about Sansa and her continued ‘unpleasantness’. Not personal...hmmm, she wonders if this woman is ready to take her own advice.

*****

Arya has only been to the throne room a handful of times when her father was the Hand of the King. It’s a room one doesn’t forget. It seems as though Daenerys had made some...adjustments. There was an enlarged opening that made space for her dragon to rest. Cautiously she walks towards her brother and his wife.

“Arya have you heard? There has been a citing of dragons over Rhaenys’s Hill. Three of them.” Jon voice sounding shocked...clearly surprised by the news of the dragons coming South. 

“We are heading that way. I shan’t wait any longer. This is a momentous event. They must sense me and Drogon. They are seeking the Mother of Dragons. If this isn’t a sign, Jon, that taking back Westeros wasn’t my destiny, I don’t know what else I can do to convince the realm. I brought magic back and dragons. I am singular, and the fates have placed the burden of rulership on my shoulders. I am grateful to you, my Love, for your constant support. I must go. I will not keep them waiting any longer.” Daenerys careful rises from her throne. She runs towards Jon, both embracing...a strained affection clearly visible between the two. Arya looks away. 

Daenerys and Jon ride on the back of Drogon to Rhaeneys’s Hill. Arya rides her fast and faithful steed to the hill. When she arrives, Daenerys and Jon are walking around the center of the pit. They hear a dragon screech, and Drogon takes off in that direction. The Targaryen’s are facing her, the opening to the underground tunnel to their back. They don’t see them, but Arya can. There before her are two beautiful Lady Warriors. The best of their parents in the form of two sisters. To the right, Robyn’s red hair styled in a long braid, that begins from her crown down to her back...almost to her waist. The blue of her Tully eyes illuminating face. Her leather’s colored in a tint of green and bronze, to match the color of her dragon, Tora. She wears her favorite leather trousers. Her favorite dagger sheathed at her thigh and her sword, on her hip. On her left, Alysanne’s long raven hair styled in the way of her mother’s, when she was the Lady of Winterfell. Her eyes a stormy gray...typical shade for her...when she is ready to battle. Dress similarly to her sister, her colors tend to match the gunmetal black and white of her dragon Yhalen. A staff on her back, with steel blades on each end, and sword at her side. Flanked by their direwolves, Winter and North, together they made a formidable team. 

Arya’s face alerted Jon to something...or someone behind him. He turns to look behind himself, and he sees them, and he sees _her_. It’s hard not to look at Alysanne and Robyn, and not see their mother. It is both their curse and their blessing. Jon’s looks as though he’s has been knocked to his knees. He steps back, his breathing erratic, his eyes widened in shock. His reaction causes Daenerys to turn as well. She too can see the face of Sansa Stark staring back at her. 

“I don’t understand. You said she had died, Arya.” Daenerys cries, trying to find reason in this insane moment. 

“She did. She died giving birth to her daughters...” Arya confirms. She looks to Jon, “...your daughters...”

“No...no. Gods...Sansa.” Jon whispers, his body trembling as its assailed with emotions. 

“Daenerys Targaryen, we are here on behalf of our uncle, Brandon Stark, the King in the North.” Alysanne breaks the moment by gathering Daenerys’s attention. 

“We are here to inform you that this is the official notice that the North has reclaimed its independence. It has also absorbed the Riverland and the Eyrie, as per their request.” Robyn looks to Daenerys to gage her response. 

“I reject your claim. The North belongs to me. I am the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. It has been a while since I have visited the North, but perhaps it is time Drogon and I made an appearance. I have my dragon and now there are more who have come in search of the Mother of Dragons. Take that back to your uncle, Child.” Daenerys vibrates with fury at the demands the girls make on behalf of the North. 

“Dany. Stop this. We’ve talked about his. Drogon cannot be your first defense. They are not the Westerland or Dorne. They have never given you cause to rise against them before this moment. Let’s talk first.” Jon pulls Daenerys to him. He looks torn between looking at his wife and staring at his daughters. 

“That sounds wise. You might discover some information that might change your current plan to try and burn everything north of Herrenhal.” Alys retorts. 

“Like what information?” Daenerys pulls away from Jon, walking towards his daughters. Arya sees the few soldiers Daenerys brought with her preparing to attack.

“Well for starters, you aren’t the only Mother of Dragons in Westeros. It’s a title you must share.” Robyn smirks...Sansa’s ever present on her face.

“With who...” Daenerys screams. 

“Dany” Jon sensing the explosiveness of the situation, tries to quell his wife’s anger. 

“Why with us...” Alys returns. 

Daenerys begins to laugh. She looks towards Jon and then Arya. Laughing until tears being to fall onto her cheeks. “How is that possible?”

“We were gifted dragon eggs when we were young. We hatched them. We raised them. We _ride_ them.” Alys explains. Ever the level-headed one.

“That’s not possible...” Daenerys says weakly.

“Why is that? We are the blood of the wolf and the dragon. We do not burn...much like you..._Great-Aunt Daenerys_.” Robyn continues to provoke Daenerys. Arya can see she is spoiling for a fight. Of the two she harbors the most outward resentment towards Jon. She wants to hurt the Queen in order to hurt her father. Arya wills her niece to remember her training...to remember her mother’s plans. Arya can hear a change in the tone of Robyn’s voice. Less antagonistic. “In our veins runs the blood of the Starks and the blood of the Targaryens.” 

“The North does not want to interfere with your rule. If kingdoms wish to follow you as their Queen, then we send our blessings. If they wish to part from you, and you do not allow it, we will consider that an unfortunate choice...but yours to make nevertheless for we may assist in that matter. As long as your warfare remains out of the North, we can live peacefully. Plainly, stay away from the North Daenerys Targaryen, and we will stay away from you.” Alys demands. She looks to her sister, then back at their father. “If you love her, as we have been taught to believe, you will keep her away from the North...and that includes the Riverlands and the Eyrie. You will return what you had no right to give. The North Remembers, Jon Snow, and Winter will come for House Targaryen. We don’t want to...we don’t think our mother would have wanted that, but we will.” 

Daenerys trembles with rage. “You dare to demand from me. I am the Mother of Dragons. I ...”

Robyn glacial stare both at her father and his wife withers, as she implores them to listen. “What you are is a Queen, with a country that has spent more time in war than in peace. Your resources are limited. Regions might not have the people to fight against you, but your army is a small fraction of what it once was. Your kingdoms in Essos have been ravaged by internal battles as well. Your military power is a thing of the past. All you need is one region to find an outside ally and you will be Queen of Westeros no more. You have a dragon, one dragon, but we have three, three that have grown large, wild, and free in the North. Your dragon is alone in the world...dragons are not meant to be alone.”

Jon grips his wife’s shoulders. “Dany she’s right. We can’t afford another war. Why can’t you see that? I’m tired Dany. I’ve spent over 20 years trying to help keep this country together in a way that they have no desire to be linked, trying to repair the damage we brought when you took Kings Landing. What legacy do you see yourself leaving behind? The Reach finally supports us, as do the Stormlands and the Crownlands. Can’t that be enough?”

“This wasn’t how this was supposed to be, Jon. You know my dreams. You agreed.” Arya turns away from the scene in front of her, as Daenerys pleads with Jon to understand her. 

“I know, and I did, but it didn’t work, Dany.” Jon’s thumbs her tears away from her eyes. 

Three different screeches alert the people in the pit that the dragons have returned. Arya still marvels when she sees them. Tora, Yhalen, and Theron...she admits she has a fondness for the bronze and grey Theron, being a rider-less dragon. It doesn’t seem like the creature is lonely. It just strikes her as free. 

“Oh, my gods...they’re...” Daenerys is stuck silent. 

The older adults watch as the young women mount their dragons. Robyn adjusts herself on her mount, “Remember what we said Daenerys Targaryen. As the ruling queen of the South, we expect a raven with your response shortly. We hope for all our sakes, that you choose to respond wisely.”

Daenerys still admiring the three dragons before her, turns to look at Robyn, and replies with a weary voice. “And to whom do I address such a raven?”

“You can send it North to Winterfell. To either Robyn or Alysanne--”

“Stark.” Daenerys finishes. 

“The surname is Snow. Robyn and Alysanne Snow.”

“So, a bastard’s name.” Jon replies, sounding pained by the realization that Sansa kept his children from him. Giving him no opportunity to make them true-born. 

“Uncle Bran, with the help of the Free-folk, banned the practice of naming illegitimate children as the North has done in the past.”

“But your name is Snow...” he rejoinders. 

The young women looking down at him from mounts up high, looking like the spear wives he once knew...during this time in the True North, staring at him with the same expression their mother was known for, the face that constantly reminded him that she loved him...even if she thought him naive at times. 

It seems the sisters, ever connected, and in sync, “Yes. We were named after our father.”

It’s with those last words, the sisters nod to their aunt, who is now seated on her horse. “Good-bye, Jon. Daenerys.” With a nod towards her brother she takes off at a hard pace with North and Winter at her sides. She sees her nieces flying overhead with Theron trailing behind. It hurts her to know that she brought Jon pain, but she does not regret keeping her promise to her sister. A memory surfaces of her sister, heavy and swollen with child. Arya asked Sansa if she could just swallow her pride, then maybe Jon would come to her. Sansa looked at her, eyes sad, yet resigned. _“I will love Jon till the day that I die, Arya...and quite possibly beyond that. My choice to abstain from reaching out to him, is not one I make lightly. When we took back the North, we swore...all of us...Lord and Ladies...that we would never bow to another Southern ruler again. I let my love for him and my fear of being alone, keep me from staking my claim, as the true heir. Perhaps if I had, then the North would be free. It is now my duty to bring independence back to the North, and I can’t do that with Jon Snow at my ear...he is too tied to Daenerys right now. Oh Sister... I love him. I miss him. I feel bereft without him. I do not have the eloquence to describe the depths of how shattered I feel. I will have his children. I will have my siblings. I have safety and freedom. I can only urge the fates that it will be enough._

As Arya once again looks to her sister legacy, flying above her. Flying back home, back to Bran, Garnaa, Gendry, Brienne, Pod, Tormund, the Reeds, and the Northerners...above and below the wall. The people who have been their most dedicated teachers and fiercest protectors. Tears wetting her face, she whispers hoping Sansa will hear, “They will be enough, Sansa. They will be enough.”

_The End of Part One_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is what I think Sansa and Jon's daughters would look like.
> 
>   
Robyn Snow
> 
>   
Alysanne Snow
> 
> (The images are not mine...they were on pinterest...so I take no credit for them.)
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the story. These chapters were meant to set up a second part to this...which is all about the aftermath of this story's finale. 
> 
> I'll start posting the next part soon. 
> 
> Until then...thank you for reading my story and for the support :)

**Author's Note:**

> This fic will move fast...it works sort of like important snap shots leading to the end.


End file.
